Common Ground
by DsignG4
Summary: Summary: Susan is in so much pain due to Sheridan's capture, Marcus decides to try to help. sound vague enough? Gap Filler from shortly after Sheridan's Capture by Clarke's Weasels to Endgame, somewhere in there.


Disclaimers: not mine, yada, yada, yada. (get on with it!)

Gap filler - from shortly after Sheridan's capture, and perhaps leading to Susan's comments to Marcus in Endgame. (she started some serious thinking there at some point) What I think could have happened off screen, I guess.

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There was no animated chit chat anywhere on board. Even the furthest reaches of the station were absent of the normal steady din of conversation. It was almost as if the station itself was holding its breath, preparing for the worst.

It'd been three days now since the news of Sheridan's Capture. It was all very depressing if you asked him. But martyrdom tended had that effect on people.

It was like a cloud had descended, blocking out all light, hope and redemption. Most inhabitants here thought of Sheridan as their ace in the hole. One that was duly trumped. Their fears for their safety now were evident in every pair of eyes in silent mourning. You could read them all clearly; they had HIM. Their little world had remained remarkably safe and untouched thanks to him. Now he was gone and all bets were off.

As much as Marcus liked the man, he didn't see him coming out of this one alive. He sincerely hoped he wasn't, as bad as that sounded. He'd heard the reports of the 'reeducation' centers. The 'investigations'. The torture routines. If half of it were true then Sheridan would be better off dead.

The thing was he wasn't sure who was taking the whole thing harder, Delenn or Susan. Delenn had sequestered herself away in her quarters, grieving in the only way a Minbari, or a lover for that matter, could. Praying, mediating, wishing for what they knew was true wasn't. Susan was, well another story entirely.

At first when he arrived he was sure Susan and Sheridan had been involved in some way previously, the rapport was simply too coordinated. There was a definite fondness. That was the only word that really tied up what he felt from it all. In time he grew to realize it was more of a sibling relationship. Sheridan was definitely the big brother. Now, the little adoring sister was suffering in her private hell. Alone. As it seemed so much of her life was.

He sat in the Zocalo trying to catch a quick lunch, and watched her from afar. Emotionless, distant, pale. She sat at a bowl of uneaten salad, just twirling the bits of lettuce around in the dressing with her fork. She looked haunted, like she hadn't slept in days.

It was as if the fire that was the very soul of Susan Ivanova had been snuffed out. He'd once heard a saying, 'all alone in a crowd'. That was SO Susan Ivanova right now it wasn't even funny.

His heart felt split in two. Just to look at her in so much pain made him hurt in such a way as if he would thought do nearly anything to spare her anymore. He wanted to fall on his knees and hold her till it all was over. Caress her sweet face and whisper he'd keep her safe from the night. Tell her everything that would make her believe it too. If only he could, if only he...

Just then her head raised. She looked up from her salad, and directly, unwaveringly into his eyes from nearly opposite end of the crowded Zocalo. It was as if he'd called her name aloud and she knew exactly

where to look.

He felt for a moment as if he'd been caught at something he shouldn't have been doing, he just couldn't help it. He never could. She was just so...

Locking gazes, and feeling the need to have a reason for staring, he gave her as comforting look as he could manage that said 'I understand. I'm so sorry.'

Suddenly, it was as if the station ceased to exist and they were the only people present; silence in place of the chaos.

The look in her eyes was so sad. So lost. A lump found home in his throat and settled in, a deluge of loneliness on it's footsteps - he felt his breath catch in his chest just as she broke contact, stealing her eyes away. The busy marketplace around him cruelly exploded back into his consciousness as if someone had shattered a window. He felt himself jump a bit at the suddenness of it all. He looked around as if he just noticed it for the very first time.

He looked back just in time to see her stiffly rise from her chair,departing as if there was she had just that instant forgotten she was late for. Never once looking back.

His brow furrowed, and a softly whispered expletive crossed his lips. He took a deep inhale, raking his fingers through his hair and down his cheeks in frustration. What had he managed to do now? He beat a fist into the table with a resounding SLAM as a little headache began to build behind his eyes. Wonderful, he thought, what a topper to an already awful day.

She rubbed her temple. Why had she done that? He was broadcasting so loud Bester could have read it from Mars. It was so loud even she had to admit hearing it. She had tried to ignore him, block it out, but it got stronger the longer she sat there, too strong to NOT notice; to not WANT to notice. It was screaming at her to come closer, like a siren's song.

She felt herself drawn to it like a cold frightened child looking for warmth. Seeking his gaze was her first mistake, her second was reaching out for more of what she desperately wanted so much. Just ever so slightly reaching back... And there it was - like a flash - He loved her. So deeply, so un-abidingly, It made her gasp in pain. He loved her so much it hurt.

It wasn't like what she found was a surprise, far from it. If anything is was desolate confirmation. She'd sensed it months ago. She didn't have to be a telepath to pick that up. It just had never been so loud as now, always this warm low level hum that got louder, warmer, as he approached. It was one way she knew he was near. She'd grown to rely on that hum. And as much as she hated to admit it, she liked it.

She knew then she was touching the warm comforting edge of his mind. She realized she went too far, too fast. She panicked. Frightened with what she did, she took off like a common thief.

But... the few brief moments she was there, were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. She hadn't WANTED to break away, she HAD to, shamed.

She was so damned stupid! She'd been weak, she had never felt the urge before, never been so weak as to , she couldn't ever again; never again. She just hadn't thought was all. Now she had another problem. He knew now! How could he not?

She cycled through the songs on her crystal in the player and located the set of tracks she was looking for. A slow easy Martian jazz. When the somber tones began, she picked up her mug of caff, kicking her feet to one side on the couch next to her.

Leaning into the soft cushions, pulling the throw closer to her body. A tear slipped down her face with a silvery trail. It was not the first since this began. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

She was roused slowly to the present by a soft persistent bleating at her door. She sat up and snuffled, wiping her eyes with the back her hand as if someone could see her.

"Who is it?" She said in her most authoritative tone of voice.

"Me. Have a minute?" came the ever-familiar accent. He never said his name over the speaker, as she had learned soon after his arrival. She supposed at first it was due to the fact he didn't want people to know his identity. After a while, it just wasn't necessary any longer.

She ran her hands over her face in a guilty attempt to dry it. She looked down, still mainly in her uniform, now rumpled. It was minus the jacket and her shoes, and her hair hung free, though now a bit tousled. "Can it wait till tomorrow?" she asked, sounding more perplexed than she intended.

There was a long delay, then suddenly, "No. I don't think so."

Typical. "All right. Give me a minute." Tossing aside her comfortable throw and stoop up, straightening her clothes. Going to the small kitchenette, she picked up a small hand towel and doused it in cold water from the faucet and pressed it to her face. Hopefully it would cool the redness.

She took a deep breath, setting the towel aside, then moved to the center of the small suite. Crossing her arms, she called out. "Enter."

The door slid open, pouring blinding light into the gloomy interior. The familiar warm buzz was back. She finally found it alarmingly comforting, a gentle reminder of the today's 'encounter'.

He stood silhouetted within the frame for a moment, then swept seriously in, coming a few feet from her.

"What's up?" She asked afraid he was going to come at her with indigence at what she done to him in the Zocalo. She couldn't blame him really. It was inexcusable, and most of all she knew better.

He went to speak, stopped then smiled taking her aback. "A proposition. Well, more of an offer really."

She raised an eyebrow at him. Did he not even know? Couldn't he tell? The total compassionate look on his face told he she was off that particular hook, shockingly enough. She could see the gears in his mind working, sidetracking his thoughts. Something was definitely up.

With a sigh she then motioned to the couch, "Have a seat, I have a feeling I'm going to need one."

---------------

Her rather chilly greeting only reaffirmed this is what he needed to do, and most importantly what she needed to hear. He remained standing and stared at his hands, rubbing them together deep in thought, trying desperately to remind himself of the words he'd rehearsed on the way over. The sour impatient look he was getting from her wasn't helping either. He just decided to wing it.

"Over the last couple of years, we've gotten to know each other pretty well, would you say I'm correct in saying that?"

She nodded silently, the look on her face evident she wasn't sure where this was going.

He gave her a look of trepidation and just began, "I know I'm not always your favorite person but-"

"Marcus, I really don't need-" she interrupted

He cut her off with a stern wave of his hand. "Let me finish, please."

He licked his lips then began again. "The fact is, I've never had many friends. Ever. The few I had growing up are all gone, and the only ones I have now are here on Babylon 5. Of those, your friendship means the most to me because I know you do not give such friendship lightly."

Her face softened with an almost look of pity. He looked into her eyes, watching them watch him with such trepidation then snapped them away before he said something not on the schedule.

"I saw you in the Zolcolo today, and it scared me to be honest. I've never seen you like that before, not even after he went to Z'hadum. It really worried me. Are you talking to anyone?"

"Excuse me? Aren't I talking to you?" She raised a weary eyebrow.

"All the people you would most rely on are gone. Sheridan. Delenn's in seclusion, Franklin's swamped in medlab, Garibaldi's personae non grata... I know you feel alone in this, and that you don't have anyone to talk to. But you're wrong, I'm here. If I can do anything to help...

After like what seemed an eternity, she spoke emotionlessly. "Marcus, Thank but no, I'll be alright, it'll pass."

He cocked his head at her. "No, it won't. You forget I know quite a bit about this. I've been where you are more times than I can count; it never just goes away. It festers. Like a cancer. I think I CAN help." He then with a knowing smile he threw back the opening of his duster, reaching into the voluminous folds and pulled forth a bottle of wine. He held it up with a smirk.

She then looked at him, "Trying to get me drunk so I'll open up? You'll need more than that I guarantee you." Her look was tired but held a promising spark of the old Ivanova.

He smiled, "As opposed to Liquor, wine is much more suited to conversation," He chided her as he smoothed his hand over the bottle, wiping another remnant of the thick layer of dust that had covered it on his shelves. "It's quite a nice vintage, or so I'm told. Most probably very expensive as well, knowing the source."

Seeing her unspoken question on her face, and feeling the need to explain, he answered, "It was, ah, a gift. Did someone a favor last year. Never really had much of an occasion or opportunity to crack it open, I suppose. I'm never around much it seems. Never anyone to share it with really, what good is a conversation with oneself anyway? You know all the punchlines already."

She smirked.

He looked up at her, getting serious again, "To be honest, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather share this with, and I can't think of a better time than now." The look on her face, a mixture of weariness and amusement spurred him on, "Got a corkscrew?"

A warm blush brightened her cheeks, she puckered her lips trying to retain a small smile, "Second drawer on the left," She motioned with her head to the kitchen. "Glasses are over the sink."

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Hours later the bottle was drained dry, next to it's half consumed successor from her cupboards. They hadn't talked about Sheridan much, she'd always found a convenient way to turn the topic around to other things, but they had talked. A lot. About nearly everything else it seemed. From the upcoming events to the weather on Mars in summer. She seemed in a much better mood at least, even cracking a few jokes over the evening in her typical dry style over a meal of delivery chinese-ish food. He could tell she was tolerating his company for once. Maybe even enjoying it?

The combination of food and wine, stress, and late hour after a full work day were showing their toll on her. Sitting to one side of him on the couch, her arm over the back with her head propped on one hand staring now at the half glass of ruby liquid in the other hand resting on her thigh. She sloshed it in lazy fascination.

One second she was talking about some recent rash of problems regarding the Brakiri, and the next second she was asleep; looking as if she were still attentive, her head held propped high on her hand.

She relaxed into her inadvertent slumber a lock of hair fell over one eye. He smiled sadly, sorry this evening was over. He was careful taking the glass from her other hand, so she didn't spill it. Before he could stop himself he reached out and stroked back the auburn lock behind her ear, letting his fingers take their time down the silky strands as they crossed over the satin column of her neck.

He absorbed her face as if it were the last time. What I wouldn't do, he thought, there isn't anything I wouldn't do. Not a single thing. My world for her, he thought to herself. My very world.

She snuggled down into the cushions, her head gently to one side. He watched mournfully awhile, in his mind telling her everything in his heart as if she could hear him. Every wish, every dream, every hope he ever had was before him this very instant, and some he made up on the fly just so he didn't have to stop. Finally, he rose feeling he should go.

"Lights, Low," he said a softly into the air. The room's illumination dimmed at his command. Whispering softly to rouse her, gently guiding her head to lie upon the pillow that had been to his side. He drew the blanket from the bed in the next room and covered her, making sure to tuck her in. She fell back asleep immediately. Towering over her watched a few more minutes, unable to miss the serene glow that was about her now. How peaceful she looked now. Something that had not beent here when he arrived.

He thought twice about it but he kissed the tips of his first two fingers and carefully, with a feather light touch, placed them to her lips. They twitched once, then she rolled over with a heavy dreamy murmur pulling the cover about her, her back to him. He touched his fingers back to his mouth, then into a tight fist as if trying to absorb it.

He let out a sigh and pulled his duster back on, adjusting it at the door he turned to watch her once more. "Sleep well my love," he whispered in and swiftly departed, his cloak swirling about him.

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She heard door whir shut in the back of her mind. She heard him say something on the way out but it was to soft to pick out. Groggily she opened her eyes rolling back over. She looked at the door for several minutes deep in thought. Bringing her fingers to her lips and lightly tracing them, she smiled. Had he actually done that, actually kissed her, or had she dreamt it?

He set off every alarm and right now she desperately wanted to ignore tell those alarms to go to hell. Everything about him scared her because it felt so... right. No, now was no time for entanglements. There was a war on and she was a soldier. She knew the harsh realties of war, things changed direction on a hair. She simply couldn't spare the distraction; no matter how more often than not the distraction always managed to attract her attention.

She wasn't going to deal with it now - that was for damned sure. It was late and she worked in, what, 4 hours? She grumbled and with a heavy groan sat upright on the couch and realized he had covered her up. She smiled a dreamy sleepy smile, touching her lips again. She rose padding into the bedroom to go back to sleep.


End file.
